How Do I Loathe Thee?
by Doily
Summary: Desperate to date Sukki, Sokka inadvertently launches a complicated domino effect: conniving exes, equally conniving siblings, slander, shocking facial hair, manipulation, revenge, and of course Katara's wrath ensue. Ah, to be young and in love. AU Z/K
1. I Hate the Way You Talk to Me

**How do I Loathe Thee?**

_**Author's Forward:** This fic is based on the film "Ten Things I Hate About You", which is also, in fact, where I pulled the chapter titles from. In essence, the premise is the same. A sibling wants to date, but cannot until another sibling begins to date. Said sibling, of course, has no interest in doing so... and blah, blah, blah. You get the gist; hilarious high school hi-jinx ensue.  
_

_What's different: the siblings are a boy and girl, Sokka does not need to outsource and/or manipulate someone into funding the project, Zuko has an incredibly meddlesome Uncle, and Hakoda is not an OBGYN, though he still practices his love with women all across the country. _

_**Yes, this is a fandom cliche**. However, to ease your concerns, I haven't seen the movie in years, nor have I successfully read another fic based off of it -so your chances of finding something fresh is probably remotely decent, if I do say so myself. -And now I'll shut up. Without further ado, please enjoy!_

_.  
_

**Chapter One:**

I Hate the Way you Talk to Me

* * *

Sokka thought it was completely unfair; he was, after all, older, suaver and hotter than Katara. Yet he was so cruelly restrained from sharing his natural-born gifts with the female world. At least until said Katara decided she too wanted to start dating. With his sister soundly at sixteen years old and a veritable high school spinster, Sokka was pretty sure hopes were nothing more than a pipe dream and would remain so unless something drastic happened... like a lobotomy or three. He hated to admit it, his precious baby sister was a walking, talking, man-hating beast. In a typical day, she probably averaged around four or five broken hearts, usually the same poor kid too.

He shook his head mirthfully at the thought. God bless little Aang, who tried so valiantly to tempt his sister into shark tank that was high school dating. Still, it was no dice and he was no closer to being able to ask Suki Flotman to the prom. She was willing, to an extent, to keep their fledgling relationship so tightly under wraps, but even though she was unbelievably understanding, she had no qualms skipping prom altogether if she couldn't have a real, public, non-concealed date. And Sokka thought this was a travesty: he'd pay good money to see that girl in a legitimate dress. (Not that he didn't appreciate the way she looked all the time... if only for fear of violent repercussions. His secret girlfriend was pretty feisty.) Action had to be taken. Something had to be done. There was no way, absolutely no way he'd miss taking his girl to the prom.

"Dad, please!" Sokka begged on hands and knees in his father's office.

Hakoda Wattribe, Mayor of Ocean County, looked down his nose at his son, glasses held loosely to the side. His newspaper was flattened against the mahogany grain of his desk and face was pulled tight in a calculating frown. He shook his head. "Sokka, there's a reason you aren't allowed to date-"

"Yeah," the boy grumbled, "because Katara's too frigid to-"

The man cleared his throat threateningly. "No," his voice cut, "It's because you are reckless and prone to flamboyant escapades. If you involve a girl in your ridiculousness, I don't even know what would happen." He sighed, heart melted slightly at the sight of his son's forlorn expression. More gently, he continued, "I am the mayor, Sokka. As much as I love you and your energy and your... creativity, we all need to behave and uphold an example to the community as long as we're under the public eye, don't you think?"

"Dad, I understand the need to, you know, be responsible and everything. What do you think I'm going to do? Go run out and get the first girl I meet pregnant? I'm seventeen! What do I need with a kid? Come on, dad!" He got to his feet and circled around the desk to his father's side, throwing an arm around the older man's shoulders. He turned on his best politician schmoozing voice, "You know me! I'm your eldest, your handsome, responsible, well-liked son! Can't you cut me a break, just this once?" Then, he deployed his trump card (puppy dog eyes) and hoped for the best. It was his ace in the hole, his last-ditch effort. If his father could resist, it was all for naught.

It was all for naught.

The older man picked up his newspaper and swiveled his chair around, creating a barrier between him and his son. "You know the rules; when Katara dates, so can you."

Sokka cried out in agony and collapsed to the floor in a heap.

* * *

As luck would have it, for all his 'flamboyant escapades' and recklessness, Sokka was actually a tactical genius. And so he was undaunted; he did not to take his sister's lack of interest in the opposite sex lying down. He was a man of action! A man with a part-time job at Swords n' Things and a moderate disposable income! He pulled out his notebook and a bank statement. How much would it cost to pay someone to seduce his sister? As far as he could tell, there weren't any comparables posted on the internet...

And as it was his very own little sister in question, there was the matter of choosing the appropriate person to take on the challenge. Someone he could ultimately trust to keep his hands to himself, someone-

"I'll do it!" Aang Beallede cheerfully volunteered, "You don't even have to pay me!"

Sokka gave the kid a dry look. "Right, points for enthusiasm Aang, but you've been trying to pick up my sister for two years; if she hasn't bit by now, she ain't gonna. Besides, you're only fourteen. She needs a man, someone to sweep her off her feet, someone tall and debonair… someone with a driver's license."

"Hmph," Aang pouted. "Having a car isn't everything you know, and I'll have one soon enough anyway… I'll be able to get my permit in eight months!"

"It might not be everything, little buddy," Sokka replied absently as he poured through last year's yearbook, "but it certainly counts for a lot of something... How about this guy?" He held it up.

"Jet? You want to set your sister up with Jet Freemont?" the boy asked incredulously, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. "He's a thug! He used to stuff me into lockers on a daily basis when I was a freshman!"

"Haha, yeah," Sokka wiped a tear of laughter from his eye. "Those were some good times." At Aang's glare, he added, "What? You were small! It's not like he had to hurt you to get you in one... And, anyhow, I've heard he's really changed since graduation last year. He volunteers a lot at the local Boys and Girls Club and even took on a little brother through Big Brothers, Big Sisters. …And I think he plans to go to college, at some point… eventually. Maybe."

"Yeah, well," Aang said stuffily, "I still think you should keep looking. He only picked on me because I skipped two grades and that's-"

"That's not why he picked on you, Aang."

"What, then why would he-"

"Because," Sokka rubbed the bridge of his nose, troubled by having to explain the simple concept, "You may not realize it, but there are times when you are insufferably annoying."

Aang raised an eyebrow. "Well there's a pot calling the kettle black."

Sokka evidently didn't hear him. "What about Zuko Nations?"

Aang couldn't recall the name, he took the yearbook from Sokka and searched for it on the page. It was halfway to the bottom and had no picture. "What? Where's his photo?"

"He transferred in the middle of last year," Sokka took the book back. "So he missed picture day. He's the new guy, you know? The one from the West? I've heard he lives with his grandfather or uncle or something over that teashop on 5th Street."

"Oooh, him!" He remembered the guy now. They had their lockers across the hall from each other last year. Zuko seemed an odd choice, he was quite and taciturn and there were horrible rumors about why he'd transferred there in the first place… and then there was that nasty scar of his. He didn't strike Aang as a particularly amiable individual, let alone dating material. "Why him?"

"I dunno," Sokka shrugged. "He looks tough, which is absolutely necessary when it comes to dealing with Katara... And, though she may claim she's not interested in anything more than the field hockey team and school, I know she's got a thing for fixing people. If anyone needs 'fixing', it's this guy." He nodded definitively. "He's a veritable goldmine of issues and emotional baggage. He's just the kind of guy that could intrigue her. He's absolutely perfect, I've decided that he is without a doubt-"

"One problem."

"Eh? What's that?"

"I'm pretty sure he's got a girlfriend." Aang smirked. He remembered all too well one day listening to the surly older boy sneaking a call on his cell phone during passing period. Especially since, immediately after, Zuko threatened him not to breathe a word about the phone call to anyone... Aang was nearly positive he'd forgotten about that threat by now. Most likely. "Her name is Meng or something."

"Damn," Sokka smacked his fist to his palm. "Well, maybe they broke up? Anyway, it's worth a shot. I don't want him to actually date Katara, just pretend to."

"You know she'll kill you when she finds out," Aang warned.

"If," Sokka corrected, "If she finds out." He stood with plans in hand and set off to find the boy in question as soon as possible so they could negotiate costs.

Aang shook his head as he followed after. "_When_."

* * *

People like Zuko tended to do mysterious, intriguing things, like stare blankly into bodies of water or loiter in dark corners listening to dark, obscure bands- probably on a horrendously outdated cassette player with over-sized headphones. It was this understanding that Sokka had in mind when he set off in search of Eligible Bachelor Number One. After hours of fruitless searching in parks and dark alleys, he was just about ready to give up.

"I think he works at his uncle's teashop on the weekends," Aang pointed out when Sokka showed up at his house in a forlorn cloud of defeat. "You might want to try there." He didn't particularly want to help get Katara to date another person, but Sokka was his friend, and he understood the older boy's plight... Plus, the sooner this whole fiasco blew up in Sokka's face, the sooner his life could go back to normal.

"Of course! Why didn't I think of that!"

Aang wisely chose not to answer.

* * *

The Jasmine Dragon teashop was popular with the locals almost as soon as it opened the previous year. The owner, a kindly older man by the name of Iroh, was renowned for his hospitality, good nature, and delicious teas. It was a pleasant little place, with a small patio area out front and comfortable armchairs and tables littering the interior. A small, elevated platform sat in one corner that was typically used for the rare open mic event, or whenever they wanted to fire up the old karaoke machine. Outside the building, around the corner in the alleyway, was the stairwell that led to the small apartment unit on the second floor of the building. It was there that the old gentleman lived with his surly, enigmatic ward.

Sokka had only visited the teashop a handful of times. As it stood, he hadn't been in months, mostly because Suki stopped going to there to study after school once it's popularity grew and it lost it's tranquil quiet. Of course, when Sokka wandered in at two o'clock that Sunday afternoon, the establishment was mostly dead.

The bell at the door tingled, calling the curator to attention. He appeared immediately from behind the counter. "Welcome, friend, what can I do for you on this fine day?"

"Hey," he waved uncertainly. The man looked like Santa Claus and Sokka was almost driven to give up his mission on the grounds that the man was likely to disapprove of his nephew selling his services. And though Sokka had long since ceased to believe, it wasn't an easy compulsion to quell: the man had eyes and ears everywhere. "I was actually wondering if you could tell me where to find Zuko Nations, I heard he works here on weekends."

"Oh but of course!" the old man cried congenially. "Zuko's been working in the back lately," he sneakily glanced around before adding in an exaggerated stage-whisper, "not a people person." He grinned. "But I'll go back and see if I can't find him for you. What was your name?"

"Oh, it's Sokka."

He blinked. "...Sokka? As in Sokka Wattribe? The Mayor's son?"

The 'Mayor's son' chuckled nervously. This was exactly the kind of thing his dad would kill him for... "Yup, the very same!"

"And that would make Miss Katara your younger sister," Iroh concluded with a sage nod.

Sokka did a double-take. "Uh… yeah. Do you know her?"

He laughed, "I'll say! She and my nephew had quite the altercation here three days ago." He wiped a mirthful tear from his eye. "I thought they'd tear the whole place down the way they were carrying on."

Sokka paled; he could practically see the ashes of his beautiful plan as it went up in smoke. "What?"

"You're not here to beat up my nephew on her behalf, are you?" Iroh asked in a deadly serious tone.

"N-no!" He backed away, waving his hands placatingly in front of him. "Of course not! I didn't even know they'd gotten into a fight until just now!"

"Shame," Iroh shook his head. "My nephew is a good boy, but he certainly needs to learn a thing or two about dealing with young ladies, especially ones like your sister."

"Whaddya mean, ones like my sister?" Sokka demanded. No one had the right to say anything bad about his sister, true or not. Except him.

"Why, beautiful and intelligent, of course!"

"Oh… right, yeah," he mumbled. Well, Zuko's uncle somehow seemed to like Katara, so perhaps the situation wasn't a complete loss. "What exactly happened between the two of them, anyway?"

"I think they bumped into each other, neither one was watching where they were going and they both went down like lead balloons," Iroh explained. "It was quite funny; they were both doused in tea from head to toe."

That explained why Katara came home the other day, more riled and surly than usual, smelling of chamomile and ginseng. Of course, she wouldn't utter a word of what had happened, and said nothing more to him than a sharp "Mind your own business!" before marching upstairs and starting the shower.

"Anyway," Iroh continued, "My nephew's usual reaction in such situations is to immediately jump onto the offensive and accuse the closest person of being at fault. I believe his response was something along the lines of 'watch where you're going you stupid-', well, such words don't bear repeating…"

Sokka was livid. That- that heathen called his baby sister a… a bitch? Or well, he assumed he did at least. That was the most common name tossed around behind her back, but that didn't make it okay! "What did Katara do?"

Iroh scratched at his beard. It was a compromising situation to be sure…

_The Jasmine Dragon was unusually quiet that night, just a couple of older patrons and Miss Katara, who'd taken to reading in the corner booth. He'd always thought her to be such a sweet, gentle young woman. It was by chance, what happened, really. There was a table full of professors from the local university that had arrived and Zuko was preparing their orders. The boy had seemed a bit distracted and out of sorts that day- which probably did nothing to help avoid the situation.  
_

_It was at that moment, her eyes on the front window, that Katara chose to stand and stretch… right in Zuko's path. Said boy was too preoccupied preventing the contents of his tray from spilling to notice the sudden roadblock, and, as Iroh said, they fell to the ground like lead balloons. _

_Katara screeched when the hot liquid soaked into her back. The duo lurched forward before they fell back on to one another. They laid there dazedly for a moment before Zuko started barking at her. _

"_Watch where I'm going?" she yelled back, "Why don't you start paying more attention? You're the waiter, and as far as I can tell, I wasn't going anywhere; I was standing in one place you idiot!"_

"_It's not my fault that you standing in one place is the equivalent of a normal person standing in ten!" he snapped. It was a weak insult, as Katara was a slim, athletic girl. She was aware of as much too._

"_Are you trying to call me fat? You sexist pig! Why can't you just admit that you weren't paying attention to your job? It would do you better than fishing for lame insults, anyway." _

_Iroh watched the situation unfurl with humor. Evidently, the polite, complacent Miss Katara was actually a spitfire. He was especially amused with how they'd yet to disentangle themselves in favor of berating one another. In fact, they were still arguing and screaming at one another even after Iroh had replaced the orders for the professors._

_He stood behind them and cleared his throat. _

"_Pardon me for interrupting," he grinned at them, "but I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you two to stop. You're disrupting the ambiance."  
_

_Zuko scowled and hastily got to his feet. He stomped to back to the kitchen and slammed the door._

_Katara looked scandalized, as if she'd only just realized she'd used nearly every bad world in the English language (and some extra ones too) in front of witnesses. She leapt to her feet, "I am so sorry! I didn't even think about… I'm so sorry for causing a scene!"_

_Iroh chuckled. "It's not your fault, Zuko wasn't watching where he was going, plain as day." He patted the girl on her sticky shoulder, then rubbed his hand clean on his apron discreetly. _

"And that's what happened," Iroh finished with a flourish of his hand.

"Interesting," Sokka rubbed his chin. It was a long shot, but perhaps he could make this work to his favor...

"I was thinking," the older man began tentatively, "that I should make Zuko go and apologize. Perhaps take her out for an evening. As her older brother, how would you feel about that?"

"I am willing to offer monetary compensation," Sokka replied without hesitation.

"Eh?"

Sokka decided the old man was alright and they both, in their own ways, wanted the same thing: for Zuko to take Katara on a date. He figured he may as well tell him his plight. "See, it's like this..." When he finished his tale, Iroh stroked his beard.

"That is a most intriguing situation," he said at length. "You wish to pay my nephew to date, or, for lack of a better word, seduce your sister, in order for you to take your girl to the prom, have I got that right?"

"Yep, that's pretty much the plan."

"Intriguing." Sokka could almost see the cogs in the old man's mind working.

"Uncle," A miserable sounding voice called from the back. "I've finished detailing the kitchen." Zuko then appeared, wiping his hands off on a cloth. He took in the conspiratorial looks on his uncle's and Sokka's. "What's going on?"

Iroh took the reigns then. He clapped Sokka on the shoulder. "You'll remember that lovely young lady you got into a bit of a tiff with a couple days back?"

Zuko nodded, but added, "I wouldn't exactly call her lovely, but I remember her."

"Wonderful!" his uncle cried. "Well, this is her older brother."

Zuko paled and looked at the boy, who smirked at him a little dangerously. He knew Sokka from the Kendo club at school, though they'd never directly spoken. Zuko didn't speak to much of anybody. The kid was an idiot half the time and a complete buffoon, but he was Sensei Piando's pet and easily one of the most talented club members. He wasn't exactly someone you wanted to be on the bad side of, even if Zuko did think he'd be able to hold his own against him. He shifted on his feet, passing the towel from and to hand. "Hey."

Sokka tilted his chin in greeting.

"Anyway," Iroh continued. "We were just having a discussion about what happened here the other day. Sokka feels that you should apologize to his sister and would like for you to treat her to a friendly dinner."

"Are you kidding me?" Zuko blanched, throwing the towel to the ground. "That girl hates me! I've literally run into her three times since then and she always bristles up like a spitting cat! Even if I wanted to apologize, I couldn't get near her!"

"Well, you best try, because you'll be stuck on kitchen detailing until you've gotten this whole thing sorted out," Iroh shrugged passively.

"What, but that's- you can't be serious, that's not fair!"

"Sokka here will help you out, I'm sure of it. Won't you, my boy?" Iroh clapped him on the shoulder.

Sokka grinned. Telling Iroh his plan was the best idea he'd ever had, and best of all, the whole operation wouldn't cost him a thing! "Sure, Zuko. I'll tell you everything you need to know to get back on her good side."

"Does she even have a good side?"

Sokka chuckled.

* * *

There we have it. The first chapter.

This fic is going to be light, not too heavy, and probably not too long. I'm writing it for fun. As long as I'm having fun, the chapters will keep rolling. **This chapter underwent editing and revision as of August 25th (and again on December 23rd), **but if you happen to see any more typos or glaring grammatical problems, please let me know. Any feedback on pacing, humor, voice, etc, is also welcome -just, to quote Flight of the Conchords, "be constructive with your criticism". Oh, and that was a joke earlier, in the author's note, about Hakoda and the women, hopefully someone got it...

Well, with any luck, we should be in for a fun, easy ride.

Peace out,

Doily


	2. I Hate the Way You Cut Your Hair

**How Do I Loathe Thee? **

AN: ...I was an eager beaver. I said in my profile I'd post on the 17th, but what's a half hour? On another note... Geez guys, what a warm response! You're fast on your way to turning me into a review junkie. Thanks a ton for all lovely reviews, story alerts and favs! I feel loved! Or at least like a semi-competent writer, which is just as good!

I have found, and keep finding litters of typos and errors in the previous chapter, and I've attempted to keep up with them, but again, any help on your part to make this thing look clean is mondo appreciated.

**Chapter Two: **

I Hate the Way You Cut Your Hair

* * *

There was a word for the way Zuko felt at that moment, a special word that so perfectly encompassed the enormity of the situation, the shameful stupidity of it. He stood, or loitered more accurately, by Katara Wattribe's locker with a jumbo sized Twix bar in hand. _Doofus_, he realized at last. He felt like a doofus. He sighed and leaned against the metal lockers, resting one foot back against them. He let his hair fall into his eyes so he wouldn't have to make eye contact with the passers-by. He never had to try very hard to keep people away, they were afraid of him already.

Rumors swirled in the very air of Avatar Memorial High School. People lived off of them and exhaled new ones as quickly as they absorbed the old. According to general consensus, Zuko was a juvenile delinquent who spent a year in juvie in his old town (some nondescript and completely interchangeable big city) which was why he was held back a year. The scar, it was said, came from a homeowner who'd attacked him when he attempted to break in to their house. All of it was complete bull, of course. Aside from the occasional hotel lobby pen and the innocently snuck grocery store candy when he was a small child, Zuko had never stolen anything in his life. In fact, the only time he'd ever even been inside a prison was on a class field trip in the second grade.

But for all that, he didn't see any need to correct them. He was perfectly happy keeping everyone needlessly terrified of him.

Sokka Wattribe and his sister seemed to be the only exceptions. Of course, Katara hated his guts, which, while not a terror-based emotion, certainly didn't endear him to her. And Sokka, he just had dirt on him.

He sighed. _This is all Uncle's fault_.

Ah, the subject approached. Katara had finally returned from her morning field hockey practice… and from the look on her face, one of her teammates must have lodged a hockey stick up her-

"_Move_." Katara glared at him in a way that would surely have been intimidating were he not a whole head taller than her (but still kind of was, regardless).

"And a good morning to you too, Sweetness," Zuko replied smoothly as he side stepped out of the way of her locker. "And did you have a pleasant practice this morning?"

"Bite me," she seethed. Irritation muddling her concentration, she fiddled with her locker combination and failed to open it no less than three times before it finally clicked in release. Then, because he hadn't seemed to take the hint, she faced him. "Did you want something, or are you just here to annoy me?"

"Can't it be both?"

"You are such a jerk," she growled.

Zuko rubbed the back of his head. This was more than a little counterproductive, especially if he ever wanted to escape kitchen detailing duty. "About that... The other day I mean…"

"What about it?" She asked, throwing her books into her back with obvious misplaced aggression.

"I… wanted to apologize," he said at last.

Katara stopped terrorizing the contents of her locker to give Zuko a skeptical once-over. "Why?"

"Because I was out of line?" he tried.

"Nope, try again."

"Alright, my uncle forced me," he admitted. "But… well, I mean, regardless, I _was_ out of line. It…" Zuko sighed again, "I was having a bad day and I guess I took it out on you and I shouldn't have." He brushed the hair away from his good eye. "Anyway, I heard through the grapevine that you have a thing for Twix bars. Consider this a peace offering." He held the large package out to her.

"You expect a king sized Twix to fix this situation?" Katara demanded, though not even hesitating to accept the treat.

"Well, not exactly." He scratched at his nose absently.

She threw the candy bar into her bag and slammed her locker shut. "What else were you thinking, then?"

"Dinner? Maybe a movie?"

Katara froze; her critical eyes jumped to his face. "Wait a second, are you seriously asking me out on a date?"

"Seriously," he promised.

Zuko's ego took a bit of a hit when she burst out laughing.

"Is that a yes?" he asked hopefully.

"More like a hell no!" Katara managed to say as she grabbed her sides. "Oh man, wow." Then she launched into an insulting, yet surprisingly dead-on Zuko impression, "_I'm sorry I was a prick, wanna hit the town_? Buwahahaha!"

"Oh, come on," he whined, "I just want to apologize properly!"

"Not my problem," she replied, wiping a mirthful tear from her eye as she walked away. "Thanks for the laugh though, I needed that."

Zuko scowled and turned heel; his first class was in the opposite direction. He made a short detour though, and paused as he came to a darkened hallway.

"How'd it go?"

"She said no."

"Well, we'll just have to convince her to change her mind, is all." Sokka Wattribe rubbed his hands together as he let out a low chuckle.

Zuko raised his good eyebrow and wondered at himself for keeping such company.

* * *

After third period, Zuko happened to have another run-in with Sokka, who seemed prone to frequently materialize from the shadows of the lesser-used areas of the school. "According to certain reliable sources, we may have found you an in with the subject."

"Certain reliable sources?" the scarred boy asked dubiously.

"Katara's fanboy, Aang," Sokka supplied. "He's got history class with her and it sounds like she's not doing too well."

"So?"

"Soooo," Sokka drawled, making little circles in the air with his fingers, "if she can't keep up her grades in that class, she'll be kicked off the team. The field hockey team, which is her life. If I recall correctly, you're something of a history aficionado, aren't you?"

"I get by," he said guardedly.

"Great, then you can offer to tutor her!" Then he added in a whisper behind his hand, "_For a price_."

"You want me to dangle her grade over her head to get a date out of her," Zuko surmised.

"Basically, yeah."

"That seems a little… low." Zuko crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow, giving Sokka an expectant look. "Why do I does it feel like there's something else at work here? Because, usually, an apology entails getting back into someone's good graces... not blackmail. Why are you so dead set on me taking her on a date?"

"Alright," Sokka threw his hands into the air dramatically. "You caught me. The thing is, I _need _Katara to go on a date. If she doesn't start dating before senior prom, I won't be able to ask Suki, and if I can't go with Suki, I'll die. You don't want to have my death on your hands, do you?"

Zuko rubbed his forehead. He could feel a headache coming on. "My Uncle is in on this too, isn't he?"

"It was his idea to make you apologize with a date, if that's what you're asking." Sokka slyly replied.

"For once,_ just once_, I wish I had some say in my own life," Zuko said to no one in particular.

"That's overrated, my friend," the Wattribe boy threw an arm companionably over Zuko's shoulders. "Anyway, are you in?"

"As if I had a choice."

"That's the spirit!" He slapped his friend on the shoulder. "She's supposed to meet with Miss Wu about her grade after school today, room 303. Be there." And with that, Sokka was reabsorbed into the shadows.

Zuko groaned into his hands.

* * *

For the second time that day, Zuko found himself loitering (like a doofus) by the lockers; this time just outside room 303. Inside, Katara was having a heated discussion with Miss Wu, history teacher extraordinaire, about the precarious situation her grades were in. And this time, he wasn't alone. A short pale kid waited with him.

"I remember you," Zuko said at length. "Your locker was across from mine last year."

"Yeah," the kid nodded. "I remember."

An awkward silence rolled in like a thick fog. The kid was staring at him, just staring. His grey eyes held more contempt and hatred than Zuko had seen in a long time... Not including Katara, of course. It was starting to give him the creeps.

"You skipped a couple grades or something, right?" he said conversationally, hoping to abate the awkwardness and get the kid to quit glaring like that.

"Yeah, and you got held back," he snapped peevishly.

Suddenly it clicked in Zuko's mind; his pint-sized animosity made perfect sense. This must be Katara's fanboy. "You're name's… Aang, right?"

He nodded.

"Did Sokka send you?"

"No, I'm here on my own," Aang said defiantly. "I'm here to make sure you realize what a great girl Katara is and to let you know that if you hurt her, I will end you. Personally."

Zuko tried not to laugh, and stifled it by biting his lip and nodding. "Sure, Katara seems like a peach."

Aang growled, balling his fists. "I'm serious! She's the kindest, most giving person I've ever met! I won't let a thug like you make her upset!"

Zuko was getting fed up. It was one thing having Katara, her brother, and his Uncle railing on him, but it was quite another matter to have this pipsqueak getting on his case. "First of all, I'm not a thug. Second of all, I'm not on some evil mission to mess with her. And third, the second she shows me anything but contempt, maybe I'll start to believe you, but until then, she's just the girl who's forcibly, if unknowingly, hijacked my life. Got it?"

"Yeah, whatever," Aang mumbled. "And anyway, I don't know why you agreed to this. I thought you had a girlfriend. What was her name, Ming or Meng-"

"Mai," Zuko corrected automatically. "Her name was Mai and we… we broke up. Over the summer."

Aang blinked. "Oh. What happened?"

Zuko pushed himself off the lockers and moved to lean on the adjacent wall. "What happened is none of your business." He glanced to the door, "I don't think Katara's going to be in there much longer, so maybe you should take a hike."

"Fine," the shorter boy sniffed, stalking off, "but remember what I said; you hurt her, and you'll regret it."

Zuko rolled his eyes. This whole fiasco reminded of a phrase is mother used to say, something about a "peanut circus". He never understood what that meant until this moment, now that he was so thoroughly entrapped in one.

* * *

Katara was not having a good day. To start, she over slept, which made her late to practice, which prompted Coach Paku to veritably hand her ass to her, then she had to deal with Zuko, the stuck up asshole trying to sweet talk her into a date -a date!- of all things, which just screamed conspiracy, and then she had to find out she was practically flunking history and was therefore, on the verge of being kicked off the team. In short, she probably shouldn't have even gotten out of bed. Her chat with Miss Wu about her grades was a fruitless endeavor too. There was no sweet-talking out of this. There was a little extra credit, but it was clear that unless Katara found herself a tutor, there was no way she'd be able to get the necessary A on the up-coming midterm to earn a passable grade on the next progress report.

It just figured that she'd find the teashop brat waiting for her as she exited room 303.

She glared at him. "Let me guess, you heard about my troubles in history through the grapevine."

"Good guess." Zuko picked himself up from the wall and kept pace with her as she hurried out of the school. "It just so happens I'm pretty good at history, top of my class, even. I'd be happy to help you out, if you did something for me first."

"Ugh, you are such a pig!"

"What? I only want a date, clean and simple." It was starting to get a little frustrating, her refusal. He wasn't _such _a bad catch, after all. "I'll pay and be polite and keep my hands where you can see them at all times, I swear, and in return, I'll help you bring up your grade."

Katara stopped short and pivoted, nearly colliding into him. "What exactly are you getting out of this?" she asked behind narrowed eyes.

"My Uncle has me doing kitchen detailing." Zuko sighed dramatically. "That's all he has me doing. I mean, don't get me wrong, having a spotless kitchen is all well and good, but he's having me clean under the burners and deep vat fryers and in all the nooks and crannies in the walk-in refrigerator and it's disgusting! I hate it, and he won't let me stop until I've taken you on a date to make up for my behavior."

She rolled the information over in her head. "I see."

"You do?" He blinked in surprise. Her response, her tone sounded almost… reasonable.

Katara sighed, as if to collect herself. "Two things," she held up two fingers. "One, I can appreciate your honesty with this whole situation. Two, if you really want to take me on a date, you'll have to get permission from my father first."

"Y-your father?" He paled a bit. _The Mayor. _

She nodded, "If you're serious about taking me out, you have to go through the proper channels. And please get on it soon, because if I have to find another tutor, I'd like to know sooner than later." With that, she tossed her ponytail over her shoulder and flounced away, leaving Zuko glued to the speckled tile floor of the school.

His life was officially unfair. Cruel and unusual came to mind.

At that moment, his cell phone began vibrating violently in his pocket. It was a number he didn't recognize. He answered hesitantly, already half-expecting the identity of the caller. "Hello?"

"_How'd it go?" _Sokka asked, not bothering with a proper greeting.

"I've made progress, I think." It was a waste of time, he decided, being surprised that Sokka had his phone number. He'd rather not know how he got it anyway.

"_Good," _he replied_. "What did she say?"_

"That all I had to do is get her father's permission."

Sokka made a noise that sounded something like a stabbed kitten, which Zuko took to be a bad sign.

"That gonna be a problem?" he asked warily.

"_Don't worry about it,"_ Sokka choked. _"Just do your asking and I'll take care of the rest. Don't worry, this _is _happening. Katara may think she's won, but the battle is far from over."_

With that, Sokka hung up. Zuko ran a hand down his face and trudged slowly out of the school and into the fading afternoon sunlight, wondering what was becoming of his life that had seemed so promising, once upon a time. He may as well get his fate over with. The mayor's office was a twenty minute drive downtown, and as it was pushing four o'clock, he needed to get a move on.

* * *

Hakoda stared at the young man incredulously. "You want to take Katara out on a date?"

"Yes sir," Zuko replied politely, blushing under the intense gaze of his bane's father.

"And she said yes?" he asked, disbelief permeating his tone.

"She said I needed to get your permission first, sir," Zuko swallowed thickly, then added a slightly over-exuberant, "So here I am!"

The Mayor sat back in his arm chair and rubbed his chin. On the one hand, this could be some cockamamie ploy by Sokka to get Katara to start dating, but on the other hand, the boy did seem sincere enough. That said, Hakoda wasn't incredibly pleased with the boy's attire. He looked like one of those anti-social loner types; heavy looking combat boots, loose-fitting black pants that only hoped to stay up because of a tightly cinched belt, an obscure band t-shirt, and a studded black leather band on his wrist. If he didn't have such honest eyes (and a noticeable lack of piercings and tattoos), Hakoda would've had half a mind to kick the kid out of his office.

"I'll tell you what," he said, leaning over his desk and steepling his fingers together. Katara had good enough judgment, and if nothing else, a couple quick phone calls would shed some light on the wanna-be punk's story. "I'll talk to Katara about this and I'll have her give you a call later on tonight with my final say."

Zuko took his dismissal gratefully and was so relived to be out of there, he almost looked forward to his shift at the teashop... almost.

* * *

Three hours later, just as his shift at the Jasmine Dragon was finishing up, Zuko got another call on his cell phone from an unrecognized number. He propped his broom against the wall and answered hesitantly. "Hello?"

"_Friday_," the monotone voice said. "_Six o'clock. Dinner and a movie_."

"Katara?"

"_Yes, Katara_," she snapped. "_My father seems to think you're not scum, and my brother threatened to tell him about my grade in history if I didn't agree, so, again, Friday at six o'clock. I'll expect you to pick me up_."

"A-alright," Zuko said, a bit shell-shocked from how easily everything was progressing. Sokka had in fact followed through with his promise.

"_And I get to pick the place and the movie_," she added sourly.

"Sure," he agreed. It was only one night, after all -he was sure he'd survived worse. "Friday at six, I'll be there."

"_Good, okay_," she said. Then there was a pause. "_By the way, just so you know, I think your hair is stupid_."

Wait… what? "E-excuse me?"

"_You heard me_," she growled. "_You're hair; it's stupid! It's all flippy and depressing, like you're a reject from some emo boy-band. I hate it_."

"O-kay," Zuko was, and reasonably so, unsure how to respond.

There was a sigh on the other line. "_We'll discuss the terms of the tutoring schedule tomorrow morning. Meet me at my locker_." And with that, the line went dead.

Zuko flipped his phone closed and grabbed onto the broom again, using it as a sort of crutch as he processed what had happened during his thirty-second conversation. He looked up just in time to catch Uncle Iroh grinning at him from the kitchen doorway. He sighed and resigned himself to the fact that his life was no longer his to control, sweeping up the last corner of the kitchen.

Later that night, Zuko found himself lying awake in his bed, wondering and worrying about the trials the Wattribe family was going to put him through, and whether or not he really would survive the date. His dreams that night were filled with the hateful stare of Aang, Sokka's disembodied voice, the gleaming eyes of his Uncle, and Katara's cruel laughter.

.

* * *

.

Well, that's all for Chapter Two. Chapter Three, or, "I Hate the Way You Drive my Car," is sure to be a doozie. Not only does it include the infamous First Date, but it also introduces another beloved member of the GAang. Here's a sneak peak...

_"You know Haru?"_

_"Who doesn't know Haru?" Katara laughed, nearly tripping over her feet in the process, "His mustache is legendary." Haru Smallchilde was a boy in her brother's grade with supermodel good looks and an inexplicable handlebar mustache. He was eccentric to say the least, and very hard to miss. He was a nice kid though, despite his strangeness._

_"Well, it so happens that his parents are out of town this weekend." If she wasn't running the track at that moment, it would be easy to imagine her rapping her fingertips together deviously. "Rumor has it he's throwing a party Friday night…" She let her voice trail so Katara could put the pieces together herself._

_"You are a genius."_

_"Duh," Toph Bei Fong scoffed at the obviousness of her statement, "...Sweetness." She tossed her cute head back and cackled. _

_...  
_

I can't remember if Haru was officially introduced in M. Night Shyamallama's abomination, but if the kid I think he was supposed to be is in fact Haru, I am extremely disappointed because there is NO WAY he will age fast enough through the sequence of movies (if they continue with them, anyway) in order to produce his most excellent specimen of male facial hair. That is also why his last name is Smallchilde, because that's what Shyamallama made him. I've cried myself to sleep too many nights over this...

If you want to see an awesome fanvid to make up for Shyamallama's disgraceful representation of Haru, look up GanXingba on Youtube and watch "A:TAS- Haru Beauty Products". Actually, just go ahead and watch his entire collection of "Avatar: The Abridged Series" videos because they are made of awesome and win.

That's all for now. Peace out.

-Doily-


	3. I Hate the Way You Drive My Car Part One

**How Do I Loathe Thee? **

_**Author's Note:**_ Toph isn't blind in this fic. However, to make up for this, she is dyslexic and has ADD. No bottle of Riddlin has ever been known to tame Toph Bei Fong, so she channels her hyper activity into sports and witty repartee.

Also, my humblest apologies: I'd intended to get this chapter up no later than Sunday, as it currently stands, it is nearly Tuesday. The chapter was mostly ready, I'd just encountered a small hiccup regarding the plot in the next chapter. (Said hiccup is resolved, though the following chapter has yet to be written. I'm shooting to have it up within a week.)

**_Doily's Fic PSA:_ **_I've gone back and made some minor changes to the first chapter -nothing epic, just cleaned it up a bit. Also, I'm using cleaner dividers from now on, because the text ones look dumb and keep getting deleted. -_shakes fist at FFN_- That is all._**  
**

**Chapter Three:** I Hate the Way You Drive my Car (Part One)

* * *

The Avatar Memorial High School, home of the all-star Flying Bisons, prided itself on academic excellence and a competitive athletics department. Sports teams frequently ranked high, fluctuating between the first five slots in the district, occasionally taking state. That was why, at six o'clock on Tuesday morning, Coach Paku was having his team of rough and tumble field hockey girls running the track. Tomorrow, they would do drills.

"Only twelve more laps to go!" he hollered, accompanied by an encouraging trill from his ever-present whistle. A ripple of groans erupted from the runners.

Katara Wattribe kept an easy pace, despite the pain and anguish of the early morning workout. She wasn't the fastest girl, but she wasn't exactly bringing up the rear either. A shorter girl named Toph Bei Fong ran beside her. She was a freshman, the only one to make it onto the varsity team. Though she didn't look it, the petite girl packed a mean punch, earning her the nickname "Secret Weapon". Though she was two years her junior, Katara and Toph were good friends. True, their relationship started out a bit rocky, having fallen into something of an egocentric competition to best one another during the two week long varsity training camp just before the start of the new school year, but they liked to think that their rough start gave them a sounder foundation for friendship.

Katara relaid the events of the previous day to her friend.

"He called me 'Sweetness'," she groaned, sticking out her tongue at the memory.

"Sweetness, eh?" Toph smirked cheekily. "Has a nice ring to it. I think I might like this guy. He must really like you if he's already given you a pet-name, Sugar Queen."

Katara rolled her eyes. The Sugar Queen nickname originated during their varsity camp days, but it long since lost its sense of ironic malice (well, it lost the malice part anyway). "He doesn't like me," she explained. "The only reason he even talked to me was because his uncle made him. Anyway, then he gave me a Twix bar and asked me out."

"Doesn't like you, huh?" Toph deadpanned.

"Oh shut up!" she snapped. "Someone's obviously helping him. My money's on Sokka. I can't imagine Aang going along with something like this." She paused thoughtfully. "…Then again, how else could he have found out about history class?"

"Sounds like you've stumbled on a conspiracy plot," the petite girl shrugged.

"You think?"

"Oh definitely," Toph nodded. "Anyway, did you accept the date?"

"I… well, I was sort of blackmailed into it." Katara grimaced at the memory. "He offered to tutor me to bring up my grade if I went out with him, and then Sokka went ahead and threatened to tell dad about the whole grade thing if I didn't agree. We're doing dinner and a movie on Friday."

"I see…" An evil smirk slowly blossomed across Toph's innocent features. It was a look Katara was all too familiar with.

"What are you plotting?" she asked with a lilt of humor. Toph's ideas were usually outrageous and always hilarious.

"Well, think of it this way; Sokka's protective of you, right?"

"Right."

"And he does have the motive for pushing you into this situation, right?"

Her brother would do just about anything to take his secret girlfriend out on a legitimate date. She cast a weary glance at said girlfriend, who kept a fast pace twenty feet ahead. It was hard not to be envious of the pretty, tall, athletic Suki Flotman; the captain of the team. "Right," Katara sighed.

"Well," Toph's smirk grew in deviousness, "why not make it blow up in his face?"

A brilliant light went into Katara's eyes. Revenge sure seemed like a mighty fine route to take. "Go on…"

"You know Haru?"

"Who doesn't know Haru?" Katara laughed, nearly tripping over her feet in the process, "His mustache is legendary." Haru Smallchilde was a boy in her brother's grade with supermodel good looks (aside from an inexplicable handlebar moustache). He was eccentric to say the least, and very hard to miss. Haru was a nice kid though, despite his strangeness.

"It so happens that his parents are out of town this weekend." If she wasn't running the track at that moment, it would be easy to imagine her rapping her fingertips together, like a comical cartoon villain. "Rumor has it he's planning a wild party Friday night…" She let her voice trail so Katara could put the pieces together herself.

"You are a genius."

"Duh," Toph Bei Fong scoffed at the obviousness of Katara's statement. "…_Sweetness_." She tossed her pretty little head back and cackled.

* * *

Zuko Nations played self consciously with the tips of his hair, still damp from that morning's shower. He liked his hair, regardless of what Katara said. It wasn't stupid at all! In fact, he had half a mind to style it to cover his whole face for the date, if it bothered her so much. Appearances weren't everything… not that his hair was even remotely negative. Mai hadn't minded it, and though his Uncle constantly fought to brush it away from Zuko's face, the old man toted the fashion sense of a colorblind bag-lady and his advice on such matters was not to be heeded, as a rule.

…This was how Katara found him. She watched him a moment, waiting for him to notice her. Eventually she realized that wasn't going to happen; he just kept playing with his hair, a thoughtful frown on his face. "Angsting about your hair, emo boy?" she asked with a precocious smile.

"What? No!" he brought his hands hastily away from his face, stowing them safely in the pockets of his cargos. "I was just thinking, that's all."

"About your stupid hair?" She grinned. Riling him up was too easy.

"My hair isn't stupid!" Zuko snapped.

"Uh-huh."

"Whatever," he pouted, crossing his arms. "Anyway, I'm here to discuss the tutoring schedule, as per your order. So get to it. When do you want me?"

"That's what she said!" A small blur of dark hair and green clothing cried as she sped past. They could hear her raucous laughter as she continued down the hall.

Katara's eyes flashed dangerously. "Ignore the midget," she ordered darkly. Then, with an easier tone, she answered his question, "I was thinking Tuesdays and Thursdays, if that works for you. Coach tends to take it easier on us then, so I should be better able to concentrate."

He nodded. "That's fine as long as you don't mind waiting until after Kendo Club lets out."

Katara did a double-take, "You're in Kendo Club? As in, with my brother?"

"Uh," Zuko said intelligibly, taken aback by her accusatory tone, "Yeah? What of it?"

"Nothing," she said distractedly. "Nothing at all. Anyway, I have to go. I'll see you Thursday."

With that, Katara vanished down the hall. Zuko stared after her and wondered if the disappearing act was a family trait.

* * *

Sokka was in an extremely good mood on Thursday. His dad had finally_, finally_, given him permission to take Suki out on a date. And he knew just the thing do, too. He grinned into his locker mirror, but still, he just couldn't shake that niggling feeling in the back of his mind. He turned to Zuko, who was busy changing into his hakama for Kendo Club.

"Did you say something to Katara about me?" he asked.

"No, why?" Zuko absently replied, too preoccupied with double checking to make sure everything was fastened properly. Sensei Piando was a stickler for proper dojo etiquette.

"Well, nothing," Sokka said, checking his own appearance, though he seemed to be appreciating the shape of his jaw more than anything else. "Except that she's been a whole lot more vindictive towards me lately."

Zuko thought about his last interaction with the girl in question, two mornings ago. "She did ask if I was in kendo with you," he said after a moment. "And then she got all weird and took off."

Sokka's eyes widened and his mouth dropped. "She knows."

"What?"

But Zuko's question was never answered, as Sensei Piando, prompt as ever, chose that moment to appear and usher them into the dojo.

* * *

When Kendo let out, Sokka fled like a bat out of hell, making Zuko feel especially uneasy. Today was the day, after all, that he was supposed to begin his tutoring of Katara Wattribe. And if that alone wasn't enough to make him revisit his lunch, the fact that they had never exactly specified a meeting place or time (except for after Kendo, which could be anywhere between 4pm to midnight) certainly made up for it. He did not want to give that viper of a girl an excuse to bite his head off again.

But, as it turned out, he needn't have worried at all. Katara was waiting for him when he exited the locker room. She was frowning, but he hadn't exactly expected anything else from her.

"Hey," he said, testing the waters.

"You didn't forget, did you?" She clenched her firsts defensively, clearly expecting that to be the case.

"No, of course not," Zuko waved his hands in a placating way. "But I am glad you came to meet me, otherwise I'd have no clue where to find you, or when to find you for that matter."

Katara rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Should we go to the library?"

"Sure," he shrugged. "That's as good a place as any."

They took the walk to the school's library in silence, up the stairs to the third floor. Once there, he silently followed her to a table by a window and unloaded his school bag. Not seeing any point in dragging out the miserable event, he got right down to business. "Okay, so I talked to Miss Wu to get a handle on your weak points," he explained as a matter of fact. "She said you were having trouble with a lot of the concepts about the Founding Fathers and the Revolutionary War."

"You actually talked to her?" Katara asked incredulously.

"Sure." He dipped a shoulder in a slight shrug. "How else was I supposed to know what to focus on? Anyway, if I hadn't talked to her, this study session would be wasted on trying to figure out where you needed to catch up."

Her eyes were downcast as she pulled out her history textbook. "Right."

Zuko almost fell out of his chair at the suddenly timid tone of her voice; it was such a foreign concept. She looked downright bashful, staring intently at her history book, which more than likely had only been open to a page at random. It was disconcerting and he wasn't entirely sure how to handle it. He shook his head and decided to focus at the task at hand rather than appraise Katara's bizarre change in behavior. He cleared his throat. "So, anyway, I know what you're having trouble with, and I can go over those dates and facts with you, but it would probably help to know why you're struggling in the first place."

"Because it's boring as sin," she snapped; her usual self resurfacing a little as she rested her head in her palm. "That's why."

"Okay," he said, "That's the problem then. You're just looking at history like it's a timeline of events, or a boring, predictable parade."

"Well, yeah," Katara shrugged. "How else can you look at it? I mean, I sort of already know how the story ends." She gestured vaguely, as if to the present day and present events in general.

"Haven't you ever heard the phrase, 'Those who don't know history are doomed to repeat it'?" Zuko postured. History was something he was passionate about, though he knew most others didn't possess his same commitment. Still, he felt that a large part of their problem was how they looked at things. "I mean, if you base your entire understanding of the United States history by memorizing a series of facts and dates, of course it would be boring. But, for example, did you know that Benjamin Franklin, when he was acting as a diplomat in France, used to spin around naked on his balcony in plain view of the French public?"

Katara, who resumed resting her head lazily in the palm of her hand nearly slipped off the table. "What? Why would he do something like that?"

"He thought bathing in water was unhealthy, and opted instead for 'air baths'," he replied, making use of air quotes. "He was also a lady's man and an extremely smooth talker –he's pretty much the reason France joined the American fight for independence." His lip twitched into a smile when he noticed an increased level of interest in the girl. "If you look at it, I mean really look at it, and see these people as, you know, actual people with vices and eccentricities and not just some distant mythology, it really makes what they accomplished all the more incredible, don't you think?"

"Yeah," Katara admitted reluctantly. "I guess so."

"Good," he said, cracking a grin of his own for once, "Now whenever you get bored in class, just remember a flabby Ben Franklin spinning around in the nude and hopefully that will wake you up enough to get through the lesson."

The rest of the tutoring session continued without issue, and, Zuko had to admit, went along almost pleasantly. Katara actually listened to what he had to say and seemed to really respond to his study tips and suggestions. She even went as far as writing down the titles of a few books he suggested to help her further understand the class's subject matter, though he didn't necessarily think she'd actually go out and find them, let alone read them. Regardless, it was gratifying to know she'd at least feign more interest than she actually felt. She was being polite and it was very strange, but not unwelcomed.

As they prepared to leave the school, heading in their own separate ways, Katara turned to Zuko with a friendly grin. "Thanks for the tutoring."

"Sure," he shrugged, scuffing his shoe on the ground. This whole 'Katara being nice' thing was a little too disconcerting.

Then her grin turned into a smirk as she bounded down the front steps, "Who'd have guessed that the infamous Zuko Nations was really a huge nerd!"

Zuko's ears tinted pink and he sputtered indignantly at her retreating figure.

In spite of this, he couldn't help thinking that maybe the date tomorrow wouldn't be so horrible.

He shook his head, and remarked under his breath, "Famous last words."

* * *

Zuko arrived at the imposing Wattribe house promptly at 5:55 PM. His fifteen year old sun-splotched dull gray Honda Civic sputtered dangerously as it pulled up against the curb, and Zuko just hoped the rusted pile would hold through until the date was over. At least, he comforted himself, he'd cleaned up the interior earlier and managed to get most of the grime off the windows. It wasn't that he was a messy person; it was just that he found it difficult to care about the aesthetic value of the motorized heap of scrap metal. Still, he found himself hoping that Katara wouldn't mind it too much. He patted the steering wheel gingerly, "You can't help what you are, can you old girl?"

The 95' Honda Civic remained predictably silent on the matter.

The Wattribe residence was an older Victorian home in one of the town's nicer neighborhoods, Southern Point. It had a long path through the front yard and steps up to the spacious wrap-around porch- which gave plenty of time for panic to sink in on Zuko's walk to the door. He nervously pulled at the collar of his shirt. It was a stupid shirt, he thought frantically, like he was trying too hard. It was a black button-up, much nicer than his usual fair (a mix of band and logo-laden tee's in assorted shades of gray or black). His Uncle had forced him into it as a matter of concession. He'd originally wanted to attack Zuko's hair, but after Katara's comments, that was fast becoming a touchy subject and Zuko resolutely refused. He'd also insisted on keeping his combat boots, but opted for a pair of dark wash jeans he'd found at the back of his closet instead of his preferred black (which prompted a knowing glint to sparkle annoyingly in Iroh's eyes). As he went to ring the doorbell, he hoped to any higher being in hearing distance that the illustrious Mayor was not the one to answer.

And in the general theme of things, it didn't work out how Zuko wanted.

Hakoda had to bite back a smile when he found the nervously fidgeting eighteen year old standing on his porch; the infamous Zuko Nations. He shook the thought from his head, and was about to invite him inside when something truly frightening caught his eye. "What's that?" he demanded in a voice of undisguised disgust.

Zuko followed the mayor's line of sight. He let out a dejected sight, his shoulders hunched. "That would be my car." _Figures._

"No." Hakoda took an subconscious step back into his house. There was no way in hell he was letting his baby in that… that… screaming metal death trap. But he had to get a grip; there was a way around this situation. Katara could drive tonight; that was the only way this was going to work. He sighed into his hand, chancing another glance at the offensive vehicle and cringed.

Zuko, until this point, only had half a clue what was running through Mayor Wattribe's mind as they stood in an awkwardly tense silence on the front porch. Well, Zuko was on the front porch. The Mayor on the other hand, was paused mid way between shutting the door in Zuko's face. "Uh, sir… is there a problem?" His stomach turned. This was not the makings of a good date.

"Hmm?" Hakoda seemed to come back to himself then. "Oh, no problem," he assured the boy. "Nothing that can't be solved, anyway. Come on in, Katara should be down in a minu-"

"I'm right here."

Sure enough, Katara's surly, unenthusiastic voice rang out from somewhere in the depths of the Mayor's lovely Victorian home, the contents of which Zuko was beginning to think he'd never actually be permitted to see. But then Hakoda stepped aside. Instead of taking the time to take in the contents of the home (which he was only interested in because standing awkwardly inside beat standing awkwardly outside any day), his eyes were glued to his date. Though she had one of the meanest, most disgruntled, dare he say it, _embarrassed_ faces he'd ever seen, she looked, otherwise, _cute_. It was probably Sokka's doing. It made Zuko feel a little better that he wasn't the only one to have his appearance scrutinized and subjugated tonight.

Katara wore a pale blue dress that a sensibly modest square neckline that finished in an a-line skirt that floated down to her knees (Zuko felt a little emasculated when he realized he knew what those terms meant, but that was one of the many hazards of having a little sister... one of the lesser evils, considering his sister in particular). He had to say that it definitely suited her. Most of all, it brought out her eyes, which, Zuko realized for the first time, were blue. Aside from that disturbing revelation, he noticed the delicate chained cameo around her neck, accentuated by the absence of her long hair, which had been swept up off her neck into a messy bun. Her hands seemed to knead into her small clutch like a cat, or perhaps more accurately, a tiger, preening its claws. Despite her feminine, delicate appearance, she was very clearly on the verge of unleashing something dangerous unto the world.

"Ah, Sweetheart!" Without warning, Hakoda pulled his seething daughter gracelessly to his side; she struggled to keep her balance against him, which effectively damped the levels of intimidating anger she radiated. "Well, now that you're both here… Anyway, I know you kids are probably eager to get out of here, but I'd like to make a request. Or well, that's misleading, it's an order really. I'd like Katara to drive tonight."

Zuko's face burned in embarrassment.

Hakoda chuckled and patted his daughter's suitor on the shoulder in an unintentionally condescending way. "It's not that I don't trust you behind the wheel," he explained (it was the truth too, he'd done a thorough background check, including making sure Zuko had a clean driving record). "It's just that, I don't trust your car. You understand." He shrugged and smiled as if to say, 'what can you do?'

Katara was not happy with this. Or maybe it the anger on her face was just held over from the dress and being forced into the date in the first place. Whatever her feelings, she said a hasty good bye to her dad and marched off the porch, grabbing Zuko by the hand and pulling him along. She led him to the driveway where two shiny cars were parked. Katara hunted a key out of her clutch and jammed it into the door of an off-white BMW. It looked like a model from the eighties (and therefore predated Zuko's car by years), but as was typical of the nicer cars, it was in much better condition.

She started the engine once Zuko had climbed into the front seat. Before she backed out, however, she gave him a stern look. "Before you go jumping to any conclusions about my dress; Sokka made me." A blush dusted her cheeks as she looked on straight ahead. "I didn't do it for you."

Hastily, Zuko nodded in understanding, "Right." She didn't want him to have any misconceptions and he didn't want her to think he did. They were just two people in an unfortunate situation, who were about to endure anywhere from three to four hours of each other's company and engage in awkwardly forced conversation.

Then it clicked: they both the victims here. Why exactly was there so much animosity between them, then?

…Oh right, he'd called her a bitch before he even knew her first name.

_Eh_, he mentally sighed, _details_. He just couldn't sit idly by let things continue this way. "We can't go on like this, Katara."

"What?" she asked, focused more on backing out of the driveway sans mayhem than on what he'd said.

"I mean, as far as I see it, we're both being victimized here," Zuko shrugged. "Why not, I dunno, try to get along?"

Safely on the street, Katara barked a laugh, "Ha! Now you want to be friends?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "That's not fair! I told you already I was having a bad day then, and that I was sorry! I meant that, you know? Why can't you forgive me?"

They came to a stop sign and she slammed on the break, causing the car and Zuko to lurch forward sharply. "I can't forgive you because you lied to me!" She crossed her arms, evidently content with sitting at the stop until this little tiff was resolved. "You told me you only asked me out because of your uncle, when really it was all Sokka. And don't try to deny it; I know he's in on it! How long have you guys been planning this anyway?"

"Seriously?" Zuko balked, "That's what this is about? Geez, I didn't even know your brother before Sunday, and furthermore, I didn't even know he'd had anything to do with the situation until after I'd asked you out the first time! I mean, yeah, I kind of figured it out eventually, but I'm just as much a pawn in this as you are!"

Katara laughed again without mirth. "You expect me to believe that, what, your uncle and my brother are in on this together?"

"Yeah?" Really, how hard was that to believe? His uncle was half crazy, Zuko was pretty sure.

"How much of an idiot do you think I am? I can't even imagine your sweet uncle doing something so underhanded." She turned up her nose at the very suggestion.

Zuko let his head fall back against the headrest and folded his arms. "Then you really don't know my uncle very well." He sighed. "Don't get me wrong, he's a great man, but he's not above meddling like this. If you really don't believe me, you're welcome to go ask him, we could go right now, in fact."

When Katara didn't respond, Zuko chanced a glance at her and found her studying him. Without a word, she drove on. Zuko half expected her to take the next right down 5th Street to the teashop. The relief he felt when she passed the turn, however, made him realize he might have something else to worry about.

* * *

**AN (Part Deux)**: In the beginning of the chapter, when I said that Katara and Toph's relationship stated out "rocky", I hadn't originally noticed the pun. When I did however, I thought it was too stupidly hilarious to take out. Enjoy your Freudian Slip of the day.

Also, this chapter turned into something of a beast. Thus why it was broken into two parts. Sorry for dangling the promise of a fully fledged date before you! I'm working with a limited medium for chapter titles, and it's a little difficult to have them not only make sense, but not disrupt the overall quality of the piece… which is something I maybe should have taken into more consideration when I started. Oh well, live and learn.

On that note- while I want this to remain a humorous piece, it will be tempered with a little drama. You can't have a semi-Zuko-centric fic, and not have drama. He would literally always be OOC without it. (Or like his creepy, overly peppy stage in Ba Sing Sei… (as dramatized hilariously in this comic series: rufftoon. deviantart. com/ gallery/ #/ dqhogd (remove spaces)).

Apparently I've taken to ending my chapters with fan-made Avatar things. Weird.

Peace out,

-Doily-


	4. I Hate the Way You Drive My Car Part Two

**How Do I Loathe Thee?**

**Warning:** _Content is highly unedited and subjected to blatant/annoying mistakes. Please point them out and then feel free to continue to point… at me. With laughter. (Will edit when less sleep deprived.)_

**Chapter Four:** I Hate the Way You Drive My Car (Part Two)

* * *

Katara drove. She forced her entire being into the task, gripping the steering wheel as if it were a lifeline. She was upset, understandably. Sokka had crossed an especially dangerous line, and she was in no mood to spare Zuko from the residual blast of her revenge, innocent or not. He'd still, after all, said horrible things to her the very first time they'd met. She had no reason to believe that he wouldn't still treat her with disdain were his hand not forced.

He may have been relatively nice and patient during the tutoring session, but that wasn't enough to write him off. He was still getting something out of his, and it was entirely likely he'd want nothing to do with her once this date came and passed and he no longer had to bend to his Uncle's will. '_I'll probably have to start looking for a new tutor tomorrow_,' she groused, chancing a half-glance to her right.

Sure, he seemed innocent enough now. His scar was hidden in the peripheral view she had of his face and without it he looked… exactly like the kind of stuck up prep she tired her damndest to avoid. It pained her to admit it, but he was one of those effortlessly handsome kind of boys, the kind everything came easily to. True, his hair style and clothing seemed specially crafted to distance himself from that persona, but it was still there- she was sure- resting just below the surface. Katara knew he had to work in his Uncle's shop, and his entire life was essentially a mystery to her… but there was something in his behavior at times that screamed "I'm better than you".

She shook her head. Yes she was angry, but she wasn't a judgmental person... or at least, she tried not to be. Zuko may have half the looks of the type of guy she hated, but that didn't necessarily make him one. And the scar was probably a character building event in his life, if nothing else. Of course, who knew if he milked it to get sympathy out of girls? A handful of the rumors she'd heard suggested he wasn't exactly a novice when it came to playing games with the fairer sex. Katara scowled. There was no telling what was true anymore, last year, a good portion of the rumors floating around the halls had been about her, after all, and the year before that, more still. They were all bunk.

Eventually, the silent duo pulled up in front of a small bistro called Cabbage Alley, so named for the street it was on. It wasn't the usual fair of the high school crowd as it was nowhere near the local theater, which was the central hub of teen activity in the town. Still, it wasn't a bad looking little establishment. Tea lights wrapped around the overhang of the roof and around the hand railing of the outdoor patio, funky paintings hung on the walls inside heavy with colors and designs popular in the seventies, and mod-looking furniture sat in the waiting area just by the front door.

Zuko stiffly followed Katara in from the car, hastily wiping his nerve-sweaty hands off on his pants. Figuring she'd had enough quiet time to cool down, he chanced to say, "Never been here before… it looks nice."

Katara barely acknowledged him, only sparing a slight shrug as she told the hostess at the podium that they were a party of two.

The hostess smiled brightly at the couple, and pointed to a chalk sign which cheerfully told them, "Seat Yourself".

She threw the young woman a smile and took a sharp turn to the right, to a smaller, closed off dining room, catching Zuko off guard. A waitress appeared almost immediately with a carafe of water and two menus. After assuring them she would be back momentarily to take their orders, Zuko and Katara were utterly alone.

"Come here often?" Zuko tried.

"Sometimes," Katara replied airily, studying the menu like it held the answers to Monday's history quiz.

Zuko found it hard to muster up any focus on his end. He rapped his fingers on his knee and glanced around haphazardly at the odd décor. "Uncle would love this place," he muttered.

Katara flattened the menu on the table and gave Zuko a sharp glare. "Could you maybe stop bringing up your uncle? It's awkward, and I'm trying really hard to not be angry right now. You're making it difficult."

Zuko gulped and nodded, "Sure." He glued his eyes to his own menu with a renewed determination, though when the waitress finally arrived to take their orders, he only half-remembered what he'd pointed at.

Dinner trudged on and seemed practically to last forever. The conversation was strained and usually fizzled out within two exchanges. Zuko pulled at his collar; so far, he'd made every attempt –Katara wasn't having it.

Zuko picked at his food (some curried rice dish) and sighed. "So," he said at length, "What movie did you want to see after this?" He hoped it wouldn't be anything too girly. Katara didn't seem like the chick-flick obsessing type, but she seemed keen on spiting him, so he wouldn't be surprised.

"Actually," she shrugged with forced nonchalance, twirling her fork in her angel hair pasta, "I was thinking that we skip the movie."

Zuko perked up. Was the torture almost over? "Does that mean you want to call it quits after this?"

"No," she said with a blithe wave of her hand. "Of course not. I'm having a great time."

The boy wasn't the most attuned to the female psyche, but he was pretty sure she was lying. "You are?"

"Sure!" Katara reached across the table and, much to Zuko's shock, patted his hand. She smiled and tilted her head to the side. "I completely understand what you were saying before. And I was thinking to myself, why force you to sit through some movie you'd hate, when we could go to a party we'd both enjoy?"

Zuko arched an eyebrow. "A party," he parroted incredulously.

"Oh yeah," she nodded. "My friend Haru is having a small party at his house tonight. I was thinking we could go. It would be fun! There'd be music and dancing and friends –it will be great!"

Zuko was not fooled. Sokka had filled him in on a couple details about his little sister, beyond her love for field hockey and Twix bars. She was notorious for avoiding parties (Sokka's exact phrase was "buzz-kill"). This seemed as woefully out of character for her as how nice she was being to him. Still… she must have a good reason for throwing herself into something she didn't particularly like. And he wanted to get on her good side. Calling her out would not achieve that. So, knowing he would probably regret his decision in the morning, and knowing more than likely, that one of the Wattribe siblings would be chewing him out the next day, Zuko Nations agreed.

* * *

Though it was barely eight o'clock by the time they arrived, the party was already starting to get rather lively, probably coinciding with the setting of the sun some forty-five minutes earlier. The deep base overshadowed the song and Zuko could feel it rattling through his chest as they walked up to the door. Exposing herself as the partying novice she was, Katara reached for the doorbell.

Zuko stopped her. "Don't bother, no one will hear." Against her protest of how rude it was to barge into someone else's home, Zuko opened the unlocked door and promptly side-stepped one of the nameless football jocks who'd evidently over-done his pre-gaming, as he stumbled over stone-cold-drunk. Zuko scowled, and steadied Katara's arm as he fell against her.

"What a jerk," he muttered; hand still on his date's arm as she struggled to step over the large mass of the giggling linebacker on the floor.

"Takes one to know one," she muttered back, pulling her arm out of his grasp as soon as she was steady on her feet.

Zuko glared at her, he couldn't help it. And it seemed like Katara's painfully obvious ruse was no longer a priority for her as she promptly turned heel and disappeared into the kitchen. Zuko ran a hand down his face, regretting the party invite ahead of schedule. He was ditched, and given the sense of chivalry beaten (lovingly) into him over the years by his old-fashioned uncle, he knew he couldn't just leave without her. So, he resolved himself to wait it out. It was one night. He could handle it. Katara Wattribe could do her worst, but he wasn't about to give up.

Dodging dancing party-goers (who were actually flailing more than anything else), Zuko wandered around the main level of the house, too intimidated to go down into the basement or into the upper levels lest he walk in on some disturbing sights (years of attending similar functions taught him at least this much caution). Eventually he found the beverage table, and after some hunting (and a near miss with the dubious smelling red punch), he managed to get himself a drink sans-alcohol. Having something to hold in his hands made him feel less awkward, and everyone would assume he was drinking with the rest of them.

It was best, he knew, to keep a level head. Katara was fast on her way to doing something really stupid, he had a feeling, and it wouldn't do for him to be a drunken mess when she'd undoubtedly need him later. Still, he sighed, casting a longing glance and the large collection set up for easy access on the table, and the keg in the corner, after everything he'd been through, he sure as hell could use a drink.

He shook the thought from his head and checked his watch. Eight-thirty. He groaned. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Throughout the evening, Zuko caught flashes and glimpses of Katara and every time he thought he was about to catch up to her, she disappeared again like a mirage. '_That's it_,' he thought. '_Katara and Sokka must have a gene that enables them to appear and disappear at will_.'

As if to prove this point, an arm latched around his shoulder. "Zuko! My man!" Sokka cried jovially. He patted Zuko's chest with his drink. "What brings you here? I thought you and Katara would be half-way through that new vampire movie by now?" Then his smile turned dark. "You didn't ditch her, did you?"

"N-no!" Zuko sputtered, "Of course not! She wanted to come here instead! I swear!"

"Oh," Sokka shrugged, pacified as ever. "In that case, let me introduce you to Suki! My lady love!" With that, he seemed to reach out at random into the crowd and pull her out. She looked a little startled, but mirthful as she batted playfully at Sokka's hand.

Zuko appraised her. "So you're behind all this."

"What?" she balked. "Oh no. This is all Sokka. I don't even know half of what he plotted in order to take me out tonight and I don't want to know, because I'm sure it would result in me wanting to hit him, and I'd really rather just enjoy a night out in public with my boyfriend. So whatever he did to you, I'm sorry, but please, for my own sake, I don't want to hear it!" With that, she grabbed onto Sokka's arm and dragged him away in to the mass of pulsating, dancing bodies.

Once again, Zuko was left alone. To brood, as was his natural state these days.

Not many people could be prevailed upon to talk with Zuko, who seemed to radiate agitation and anger in enough mass to form an impenetrable force field. Well, almost impenetrable. One person made it through, and Zuko had to give the kid some credit. You had to have balls to walk around with something like that on your face, and Zuko felt himself an expert on such matters.

"So," the mustached kid said as he leaned against the wall beside Zuko. "You are that transfer kid from last year, right? Zook or something?"

"Zuko," Zuko replied.

"Right," the boy said with a twitch of his facial hair, "Zuko. So, is it true, are you some deviant from the west? Because if you are, I might have to ask you to leave my party. Can't have the cops called, you know."

Zuko groaned. "No. That's not true." He looked at the kid in the eye. "Those are just rumors. The truth is that I transferred here. There is no big mystery. It's really boring, actually."

He shrugged. "Figured as much." He stuck out his hand. "The name's Haru, and I guess this is a little belated, but welcome to town."

Unsure of what else to do, Zuko shook his hand. "Thanks…"

At that moment, a loud crash rang out from the kitchen, followed with a shrill cry that sounded too much like Katara for Zuko to not go investigate. Nodding in apology to Haru, he pushed past the boy and hurried to the source of the commotion. Sure enough, there was Katara in the thick of it. Her shoulders literally heaved with anger, and beside her on the floor lay a broken plate. Her fists were clenched almost bone-white.

A guy that looked vaguely familiar to Zuko was trying his hardest to calm her down, his shoulders hunched and his arms outstretched towards her, palms up. "Kat, baby," he slurred over the toothpick between his lips as he stepped forward. "I don't understand!"

She slapped his hand away and stepped back. "Don't come any closer to me you lying sack of shit!" Her voice wavered, overwrought with rage, and, if Zuko's hunch was correct, tears.

It was time, he decided, to intervene and get his date out of there.

"Katara," he said loudly. It rang out awkwardly, as apparently the fight had caused the rest of the party to quiet down considerably. He licked his lips tentatively before continuing, having successfully diverted all attention towards himself. He moved cautiously towards her, with the care one might take when trying to sooth and capture an injured bear. "I've been looking all over for you," he said gently, ignoring everyone else.

She looked extremely confused, her moistened eyes started at him uncertainly. Mascara dribbled pitifully down her cheeks. "What?"

With the tension of the moment sufficiently broken and the shock of the breaking plate forgotten in favor of more pressing matters (finding more alcohol and badgering whoever had control of the i-Pod to choose a better song), the party resumed its previous unruly volume. Zuko sighed in relief.

"Come on Sweetness," he murmured, coaxing her to him. "It's time to get you home."

Her friend with the toothpick wasn't having any of that. "Hey, pal, we were talking!" He made to grab Katara away, but Zuko was faster.

He took her by the shoulders and moved himself in front of her. "Yeah, and now I'm taking her home. Is that concept too difficult for you?"

"Yeah, and what makes you think she wants to go with you?" the guy sneered, apparently forgetting the unflattering name (not to mention plate) that Katara had hurled at him not a minute earlier.

Zuko felt her fingers clench into his shirt. In a small voice, Katara said, "Zuko, I want to go home."

Zuko huffed at the toothpick guy, realizing that Katara had made his point perfectly. Then, cradling her shoulders, he marched them out of the kitchen and through the mess of drunken bodies in the living room. She was warbling on her feet and used him as a sort of crutch. He didn't need to smell the alcohol on her breath to know she was practically wasted. Obviously, she was in no fit state to drive.

They were about to reach the front door when Katara froze. "Oh god," she uttered turning a sickly shade of green, "I hafta-" With that, she took off in a precarious run to the small half-bath in the entryway, tossing out a 'friendly' couple as she dove for the toilet.

Zuko followed after her and crouched down beside her, shutting the door with his foot. Throughout the course of the night, her hair had managed to escape the confines of her bun, so he pulled it away from her face for her. She gave him a grateful half-glance before heaving her dinner into the porcelain bowl.

* * *

After emptying her stomach of more contents then it seemed capable of holding, she sat back on the floor and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "I think that's the last of it," she said morosely, sounding more like herself.

"Feeling any better?" Zuko reached a hand down to help her up. She graciously grabbed it with the hand she hadn't wiped her mouth with.

"Yeah, I think so." She kept her eyes downcast, obviously mortified.

Zuko shuffled on his feet. "Look," he said. "Why don't you clean yourself up? I'll just go wait for you outside, and when you're ready, I'll drive you home."

"Sure," she said, "Thanks." Then, after a moment, she added. "I'm sorry… for all this."

Zuko dipped a shoulder as he ducked out the door, "Don't worry about it."

He shut the door gently and made his way to the front porch. The cool, fresh night air was a welcomed reprieve from the stifling atmosphere of the party (not to mention the bathroom). Realizing he hadn't checked the time in a while, he pulled out his phone and was surprised to find he'd had a missed call. "Wonder what Uncle wants," he muttered allowed, flipping his phone open and dialing up his mailbox code. As the message played, his eyes widened and he nearly dropped the phone.

Katara chose that moment to come out. She patted her dress and gave him a timid smile. "Thanks for in there," she said. Then she noticed how visibly upset he looked. Her brow creased. "Is something wrong?"

"I need to get to the hospital. Now."

* * *

After a brief battle over the car keys, they made it into the car. Zuko had every intention of taking Katara home, then driving to the hospital in his own car, but she refused.

"Please, Zuko!" she begged. "I can't go home right now, I still reek of alcohol and I can barely stand straight! If my dad catches me I'm dead!"

"Yeah, well, you should have thought of that before!" he growled. He was no longer in any mood to put up with her antics tonight. He had other things to worry about now.

Her glare froze. "I'm not getting out of this car. I refuse. You can't make me. If you want to get to the hospital tonight, you're going to have to take me with you."

"I can't believe you!" Zuko slammed is hands against the wheel. But, he realized, he had to contain himself. The last thing he needed was to let his anger get him into a careless wreck, especially in the mayor's car with the mayor's daughter, especially with how much his uncle needed him… He took a deep, shuddering breath. "Alright. Fine. You can come with me. But don't expect me to babysit you all night, got it?"

Katara staunchly refused to reply.

They drove in silence, Zuko tensely hunched over the wheel. It was still early yet, not quite a quarter of eleven. It made sense; he tried to tell himself, that she wouldn't want to go home. Her father was likely still awake and keen to inspect her after what was, evidently, her first date. If she went to him in her current state, she would probably never be allowed to leave her room again. And if it wasn't for the chance that Zuko might also be held responsible, he would have gladly allowed it to happen. Yhe world would be better off, he was sure, with the wrecking ball that was Katara Wattribe on permanent house arrest.

"Quit gunning the engine like that," Katara snapped.

Zuko glanced at her. "I know what I'm doing." He gunned it again, just to spite her.

"It's an old car!" She argued, "You can't just do that, you'll wear it out! God, don't you know how to drive?"

"If you don't like my driving, maybe you shouldn't have gone on that little drinking binge tonight," he snapped back. "Then you could be driving, going home, and leaving me alone!"

"God, you are such an asshole!" She screeched, tossing her hands into the air as though she was done with the whole thing.

"Yeah and you're such an angel yourself," he drawled sarcastically, successfully shutting her up.

Once at the hospital, Zuko did his best to ignore Katara. As he said, he was not going to baby sit her. She was on her own. He checked in at the front desk, to find the room his uncle was in. Katara stood nervously behind, chewing her bottom lip and twisting her hair between her fingers.

"Is she with you," the tired receptionist asked, gesturing vaguely to the fidgeting Katara.

Zuko hesitated. "…Yeah."

"Her name?" She snapped her gum impatiently.

"Katara Wattribe."

"She family?" The nurse seemed thankfully oblivious to the fact that she had the same last name as the mayor, and continued on with the registration process as distracted as ever.

"No."

"Okay," the brunette's head bobbed. "She won't be allowed in the room, but she can go to the fourth floor waiting area." She dug in a side drawer for two badges, then printed off the clearance stickers with their names on them. "Here, take these with you and keep them on you at all times. You'll be asked to leave the area if you are caught without them."

Zuko nodded. Then he turned to Katara, threw the badge around her neck and said, "Come on."

They rode the elevator in silence. To her credit, Katara looked sufficiently bashful, almost ashamed.

'_Serves her right_,' Zuko thought, as the elevator arrived at their destination. Without a second thought, he took off in a near run to room 456. He paused though, once he reached the door, and turned to Katara who'd struggled to keep up with him. She looked miserable and a small grain of pity forced its way into Zuko's conscience. "I'm sorry," he said, gruffly. "But you're not allowed in the room. You'll have to go to the waiting area just down the hall." He pointed down the way and then disappeared behind the door.

* * *

Katara stood in a half-daze for a moment outside the door before she finally willed her feet to walk in the direction Zuko'd told her to. She'd started having second thoughts about her decision the moment they'd gotten out of the car. Standing awkwardly behind him as he checked them in only made it worse, as did the elevator ride. Of course, what really clinched it, what really made her feel like the lowest of the low, was when she finally arrived in the waiting area and noticed the large red sign hanging over head: "HOSPICE".

She felt like throwing up all over again.

* * *

The lone girl paced. She thumbed through the old magazines, and even tried to pay attention to the practically muted late-night news show playing on a suspended television in the corner. Nothing could distract her from the wretched feeling pooling in her gut. Of course the one night she decided to be bad, the one night she decided to exact revenge, to get even… Of course it would be the night things royally blew up in her face. She hadn't meant to force herself into such a personal family crisis, but surely if Zuko had told her why, exactly, he had to go to the hospital; she would have understood and gone home…

Then again, the way she treated him, was it really any of her business? He had no obligation to tell her anything, especially after the way he'd helped her escape that awful party. She was a horrible person, there was no denying it. Tears dribbled down her nose as she held her head in her hands, hunched over on the uncomfortable waiting room bench.

She noticed the smell of coffee first. Then the cup and hand that offered it to her.

Zuko had a grim, otherwise unreadable expression on his face. He sat down next to her, rested his head against the wall, and stared blankly into the middle distance.

Katara typically avoided black coffee, but was thankful for it nonetheless and sipped it carefully. She wanted to say something, anything, to break the awful silence that hung between them, but she couldn't think of what. 'Sorry', sounded trite and not nearly powerful enough to encompass the depth of her remorse. Thinking up anything more complicated only threatened to give her a headache. She almost broke down into tears again from sheer frustration. At herself. At the situation. At Zuko's stalwart silence.

"It's my cousin."

Katara almost spilled her coffee, and nearly convinced herself that the soft, wispy voice she heard couldn't have been anything but her imagination. Zuko, after all, hadn't moved, hadn't looked at her. She kept an eye on him though, just in case he spoke again, determined to be ready for it.

"His name is Lu Ten." He spoke again, and this time Katara saw the evidence of it on his lips.

She stared down into her drink, the dark reflection of her face wavering in the ripples. "I know… I know this won't mean much, but for what it's worth, I- I'm so sorry." She gripped the Styrofoam cup tighter so her nails left little half-moon indents.

Zuko sighed, "I know." He let his head fall to his chest and tilted it to look at her. "I know ."

It wasn't a bevy of discussion, the regular level of 'talking it out' she normally required for such instances, but Katara believed that he understood. And that he knew what she meant. She nodded, grateful to him and took another shaky sip of her rapidly cooling drink. The bitter taste of it mixed with the salt of her tears, and the unsavory culmination, she thought, reflected so perfectly how she felt on the inside.

"What's he like?" she found herself asking. Half surprised to find she was genuinely curious and not just trying to break the unnerving quiet.

She glanced at Zuko, who looked as though he hadn't heard her.

Then he spoke. "He was a soldier. And a good man."

The spent the next hour talking in hushed tones, until the older and haggard form of Iroh appeared, silently beckoning Zuko to his side. He returned sometime later, his fists clenched and his eyes red. He sat down silently beside Katara again, and held his head in his hands, hunched over his knees.

Wordlessly, she placed a hand on his back. He stiffened for a moment, but didn't move it off. Eventually, she could feel the tension leave his muscles. She leaned over him, wrapping her arm him so that it rested on his arm, and placed her cheek on his shoulder. He sighed, and it seemed to run through his whole body. She pulled him closer as he began to shake with the effort of his silenced tears. They stayed like this throughout the night, until they fell asleep, still locked in their clumsy embrace.

* * *

**(Long) Author's Note****:** This chapter is a big'un (comparatively, at least). Wanted to make it up to you all after I got it out a little late. And yeah, it kind of took a dive in the humor aspect here, but worry not- comedic relief will return next chapter. Cross my heart and hope to die. Speaking of which…

Yeah, I just went there. I just brought Lu Ten to life and killed him. Point blank.

(For those of you who are confused, just in case, I suggest looking up the definition of "hospice". It will help.)

Some of you are probably wondering what I could possibly be thinking, as the death of Lu Ten is a huuuuuge leap in development for Iroh's character, because common A:TLA knowledge dictates that if his son lived, Iroh would still be a gung-ho general, crowned price of the Fire Nation and all that (in canon, at least, and whatever the equivalent in my fanon universe is… kukuku).

My response to you: Have a little faith. Mama Doily knows what she's doing… And also, hey, a little bit of Zutara Angst Fluff! (If something like this can qualify as "fluff"…)

Next chapter up: "I Hate the Way You Stare". Katara's trouble with Haru's party has only just begun, and Zuko's in for an incredibly awkward morning after. With elections coming up, everyone's game to be victimized by a little slander… Enter Ace Reporter Zhao Spades and his mutton-chops of truth and justice!

No ETA as of yet, but, like always, feel free to check my profile page for more info. For further riveting details about my life/fics, I also have a livejournal, linked through my "homepage". Friend me. I'm lonely. –cries-

Oh, and lastly, you're reviews are always welcomed and highly encouraged. I would really like to hear your opinions on this chapter, especially with the heavy ending…

Sorry for talking your ear off! Much love to you all!

-Doily-


	5. I Hate the Way You Stare Part One

**How Do I Loathe Thee? **

_**Author's Note:**_ (_Waves sheepishly_) Hey, sup? Anyhoo, I'm not dead. I have officially managed to write another chapter (see my profile if you are confused). This chapter is Zutara-centric. Its almost sort of kind of fluffy if you squint. So, there's that. Also, it encompasses one heck of an awkward morning. Tee-hee. Oh, and one more thing. In the first chapter I went back and gave Aang and Suki last names. They are actually Old English words: Suki's means "Viking" or "Warrior on the sea" or something to that effect (Fun-Fact: there are at least fifteen O.E. words that mean Viking); Aang's last name means "bald" because I'm easily amused.

**_Because it's been a hella long time, here's a brief/cynical recap of what's happened so far:_**  
Sokka's desperation for a public date with his secret girlfriend (Suki) drove him to manipulate Zuko (with the help of Zuko's meddlesome Uncle Iroh) into dating his sister. Said sister (Katara) predictably hates Zuko, so more manipulation is necessary to get her to go out with him. Once plentiful manipulation had been divvied out all around, Katara decides (by way of Toph's manipulative suggestion) to get even by dragging Zuko to a crazy house party (the kind of scene Katara normally avoids like a hamper full of dirty jockstraps), where she promptly ditches her date, gets drunk, and ends up in a loud, teary battle with a "mysterious" toothpick-totin' asshole. Then -DRAMA- Zuko and Katara end up at a hospital, someone dies, everyone's sad, and then everyone falls asleep. Capisce? Capisce.

**Chapter Five:** I Hate The Way You Stare: Part One

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Zuko jolted awake, cringing as he did so because of the terrible crick in his neck. He rubbed it, and glanced sleepily at his surroundings. He was in the waiting room, he realized vaguely, in the very early morning. The sky was still mostly dark and from what he could tell from the window, heavy and overcast with morning due. It took him a couple moments to realize there was a warm weight on his arm, which at this point was uncomfortably numb and tingly.

Katara stirred a little in her sleep, loosening her grip slightly, and he took the golden opportunity to gently extricate himself. He leaned back and rolled his neck some, hoping to do a little more to relieve his tense muscles, and contemplated trying to fall back asleep. The sun hadn't even risen fully, after all –only mustering a dull, hazy sort of gray light. He pondered what might have woken him up in the unnervingly quiet room.

Then he jumped; a phone that wasn't his vibrated violently against his leg.

He sighed to calm his nerves. '_That could've done it_,' his mind surmised. He picked it up intent on silencing it, until he saw the name that danced on the view screen: Dad. Zuko had a lot of experience dealing with upset fathers. However, there was little, if anything, to suggest he was at all skilled in doing so. Thus, a twitch of panic set in.

He gulped and looked down at Katara, still curled against him innocently in her sleep. She hadn't come home last night –the Mayor's daughter hadn't come home last night-, and Zuko was the culprit. Or, well, at least that was how Mayor Wattribe would see it. Zuko wasn't sure that the truth would go over well with the Mayor, but he couldn't just avoid the problem. The phone continued to vibrate in Zuko's hand, goading him into action. He donned a grim look and then carefully, if shakily, got to his feet. A safe distance from the sleeping girl, he flipped the phone open.

"H-hello?"

"_Where the _hell_ is my daughter_?"

.-.-.-.-.

Katara was rudely awoken by a tube of toothpaste. It hovered before her eyes like a large, minty-fresh fly, so she swatted at it, fully intending to close her eyes and fall asleep again. –But this was persistent toothpaste that was not so easily daunted by the swipe of a hand. It had a voice too.

"Come on, Katara," it quietly chided in a rumbling voice that sounded suspiciously like Zuko Nations. "You've got to get up. I need to get you home."

_Home_? Katara's eyes shot open. She hadn't gone home last night. She hadn't called her dad… She groggily and clumsily jumped to her feet, barreling into and nearly knocking down Zuko in the process.

He steadied her and gave her a wry look. His face was pale and drawn, and there were definitely bags under his eyes. He was clearly still shaken and probably just as exhausted as she was. Still, he managed a small smile. "Well, at least you're awake now." He tossed her the tiny travel sized toothpaste and an equally dinky brush. "The nurse at the reception desk gave me a couple of these. I figured you might want to try and clean up a little bit before I get you home."

She rolled her tongue over her teeth and groaned. "My breath probably smells like tequila, vomit, and instant coffee, doesn't it?"

He rubbed his neck. "I'm going to go ahead and plead the fifth on this one, but hurry up –you're dad's going to have kittens if I don't get you back soon." He gestured behind him to the restroom sign.

Katara didn't need to be told twice. She popped into the women's room and quickly made herself as decent as possible, given her limited resources. Once her teeth were brushed (twice, just in case), and her hair was tamed and subdued back into a messy braid, she splashed some water on her face and tried to scrub some of the remnants of makeup and grime off. Then, she bolted out of the bathroom and nearly collided with Zuko again.

"Come on, let's go!" She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the elevator.

Of course, doing so required them to pass room 456. Katara stopped before it abruptly, suddenly remembering why she was at the hospital in the first place. Her mouth gapped for a moment, as she tried to come up with something to say- an apology, her condolences, but nothing seemed sincere enough. She gave Zuko a helpless, lost look.

His face was surprisingly expressionless. He shook his head, causing his hair to fall into his eyes and placed a hand lightly on Katara's shoulder. He squeezed and nudged her forward, letting his hand linger a moment longer than necessary. They continued in silence down the elevator and out to the car.

Katara wobbled on her feet as they reached her white BMW. She grinned humorlessly at him, "Maybe you should drive, I don't trust myself right now."

He nodded and she handed him the keys.

The drive started off in silence, Katara worriedly nibbling on her lower lip and fiddling with her hands in her lap. She looked out the window, down at her hands, at the roof… anywhere but Zuko.

"I talked to your dad," he said suddenly, instantly causing Katara to lose her avoidance battle.

The confusion must have been obvious on her face, because he continued: "Your phone vibrated and woke me up. I saw it was him calling and I thought I should answer… anyway, I explained everything to him."

"You explained?" She paled, "_Everything_?"

"Yes," he said plainly, focusing on the road ahead of him. "I told him how, while we were out, I got an urgent call from my Uncle and how I needed to get to the hospital immediately because of a family emergency. I told him that you offered to drive me, and how I'd asked you to stay with me… for moral support. And… how we fell asleep, _innocently_, in the waiting room."

She sank back into her seat and released her baited breath in a whoosh, "Oh." She licked her lips, took a deep breath, and turned to Zuko. "Thank you, I mean it, for everything."

He didn't look at her, only shrugged. "The last thing I want is to be on the mayor's bad side."

"No," she shook her head. "Not just for that. For… well, everything. For putting up with me last night and being so nice. I, I feel really stupid about everything. And terrible. Lower than dirt."

Zuko clenched the steering wheel. "It's alright."

"No, it isn't," she continued earnestly. "You must think I'm this horrible bitch, but I swear I'm not! I acted like a child last night, and forced you to bring me along and… and then you went ahead and even faced my dad for me, after everything I did." She focused on twisting the strap of her clutch back and forth in her lap. She glanced at Zuko from the corner of her eye, his face was inscrutable, as if he were biting back some cruel retort, or about to say something difficult. She looked away sharply.

"It was…" he said at length, choppily, "nice… not having to be alone last night."

Katara gapped at him, but was saved from having to respond because they'd finally arrived at her house. He pulled into the drive way and turned off the car. They sat awkwardly for a moment. "Well," he spoke finally, "We're here."

The duo took their time getting out of the car and walking to the door. And Katara expended a long, methodical search through her purse for the house key, before she realized that Zuko still had all of her keys. She took them from him sheepishly and stuck it into the door, only to have it swing open before she could twist it in the lock.

Hakoda looked like he'd barely slept and his mouth was drawn into a grim line. He nodded to Katara, "You look tired, go to bed." It wasn't a suggestion. "Zuko and I are going to have a little chat in the kitchen."

She hesitated, but the stern look from her father made her nod in ascent. She pulled the keys out of the door and walked inside. She paused on the stairwell and gave Zuko a helpless look, silently wishing him all the best, before hurrying on her way. '_How on earth_,' she wondered forlornly, '_am I ever going to make this up to him?_'

.-.-.-.-.-.

Zuko was beyond exhausted, both physically and mentally. It was barely even five-thirty in the morning and the previous night had gone from one of the most awkward of his life, to one of the hardest. And now he had to have a 'chat in the kitchen' with the mayor, not to mention the father of the under-aged girl he'd inadvertently kept out all night. Things were not keen to look up anytime soon.

Still, he silently followed Hakoda into his kitchen and sat down at a proffered chair. Zuko was too tired to do more than numbly stare as Katara's father fixed a couple mugs of coffee and handed one of them off to him. He took it mechanically, politely refusing the offer of cream or sugar. "Thanks."

Hakoda leaned against the kitchen counter and studied him. He took a sip of his coffee before he spoke. "A friend of mine who works at the hospital gave me a call a few minutes ago," he said. "He happened to be working over night. His shift ended about a half hour ago and as he was leaving, he happened to see Katara's name checked in on the visitor's list, and that she hadn't checked out."

Zuko nodded blearily and took a sip of his coffee. "So I guess this means my story checks out."

"For the most part," Hakoda pulled up a chair at the table and sat down. "Look, I appreciate what you did. It takes guts to stand up to a girl's father, especially given the night you must've had."

He shrugged, "I asked her to stay, it was my fault she was out all night." Zuko was terrible at lying, having not inherited his father's poker face, and found difficulty in telling even the whitest of lies. He hoped Hakoda would attribute any awkwardness on his part to fatigue and stress, rather than what it actually was.

Hakoda smiled. He stood and went back to the coffee pot, but this time poured some into a travel mug. He placed it before Zuko. "For your uncle," he explained. "I… figured he could probably use a cup, and the stuff the serve at the hospital is terrible."

Zuko wrapped his hands around it uncertainly. "I'm sure he'll appreciate it." He stood, realizing he'd left his uncle alone long enough by now.

Hakoda walked him to the door and stopped. "Well, Zuko, if you'd like to see Katara again… I wouldn't mind."

"I… thanks…" he uttered, slightly bewildered. He was pretty sure that 'chats in the kitchen' didn't usually end this way, but he wasn't about to complain. Zuko then moved swiftly for the open door to ensure that things ended on this positive note.

"Of course," Hakoda added in a tone that stopped Zuko mid-step, "That said, if you keep her out all night again, there won't be enough of you left to fill a Ziploc sandwich bag."

Zuko opened his mouth to retort, but thought better of it. He nodded again and rushed off to his abandoned Honda Civic.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It was Sunday and Katara felt stupid. People didn't just drop by out of the blue these days; they called first, gave some sort of warning; at least a chance for him to skip town or develop a convincing hair-washing excuse. For all she knew, they were out… planning things for a funeral no doubt. But no, she was convinced that what she needed to say must be said in person. Katara growled in frustration, mostly at herself and her cowardly behavior. Originally, she'd intended to catch Zuko in his shift at the teashop, but it was closed today and though no notice or reason was posted, she was fairly sure she knew why. It felt like trespassing, walking up the metal stairwell in the alleyway beside the Jasmine Dragon and up to the apartment shared by Zuko and his Uncle, but she willed herself up the steps despite this.

Taking a deep breath, she clenched her eyes shut and pressed the doorbell.

For a moment, nothing happened. Katara cracked an eye open. No explosions, no angry, leering, scarred faces –so far, so good. Time, though, seemed to drag as Katara stared at the closed door, allowing anxiety to pool thickly in her gut. She was on the verge of giving up and turning heel, when, finally, the door opened.

Zuko had an inscrutable look on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but Katara beat him to the punch.

"Hi," she said breathlessly, the words quickly, almost unintelligibly spilling from her lips. "I know I probably should have called before coming over, but I really wanted to talk to you in person and I thought I'd be able to catch you while you were at work, but the shop's closed… so I came up here to see if I could catch you at home. –And, you know what? You're probably really busy and don't want to deal with me right now, so I'll just leave and talk to you some other time." With that, she pivoted, red-faced, with the intent of racing down the steps and hiding beneath the nearest rock to ride out the next decade.

"Wait!" Zuko stepped out on to the front landing and gently grabbed her arm. "Wait," he said again, softly. "I can talk. Come inside for a second, I'll just grab the key and we can go down to the shop."

Katara bit her lip, but nodded and followed him inside. She waited in the small entry way as Zuko disappeared down the hall. She took a deep breath and gave herself a chance to observe her surroundings. After all, she knew so little about Zuko's home life, and this was a golden opportunity. Though the apartment didn't look particularly shabby from the outside, the exterior did little justice to the interior. It looked like a stately older gentleman's bachelor pad, a wealthy one at that. The living room, though modestly sized, was decorated in rich, warm browns and reds; a butter-soft looking leather recliner and a thick, cozy couch sat beside each other before a dark, cherry wood armoire, and a large, round oriental rug matched to the dark red drapes finished off the look. The entire open living space bled into a small dining room and kitchen, a dark wood floor unifying the layout. The kitchen was very nice, and almost seemed transplanted from a design catalog with its dark cabinets (matched to the armoire), granite counters, and stainless steel appliances. It didn't make sense. How could Zuko live _here_, and still drive that poor excuse of rust on wheels? How could they afford that kind of finery from a tea shop, no matter how successful? She didn't have much time to ponder the other inconsistencies between Zuko's projected self and his surprisingly ritzy home because he returned almost instantly with a ring of keys in hand.

He held them up, causing them to clink together and call Katara's attention. "Okay, let's go down."

The closed tea shop was bathed in ominous shadows from the afternoon sunlight. It looked silent and grave, all the chairs stacked on top of the tables and the only light coming from the slight glow of the cash register. Zuko unlocked the door and strode purposefully behind the counter where he flipped a switch and bathed the shop in its usual, cheery light.

He leaned over the counter, and Katara got the funny image of him as a disaffected punk-rock soda jerk. "Can I get you anything to drink? On the house?"

"Sure," Katara smiled weakly. "A plain green tea would be great."

He nodded and got to work, pouring the hot water into a cup. He handed it to her, with the tea packet separate. He shrugged, "Uncle says I have the touch of death when it comes to tea; it's better if you take care of the steeping yourself."

Katara grinned at him, acknowledging somewhere deep inside that he was adorable when he was all embarrassed like that. But then she remembered why she was there: to convince him that she wasn't a heartless bitch. She took her time steeping her tea bag into the water, giving herself a moment to gather her thoughts and her bearing. "The reason I came here was to apologize," she admitted at last, turning to him.

Zuko looked confused. "You already apologized."

Katara shook her head with a determined air. "Zuko, what I did was unacceptable and deserves more than a simple 'sorry'. I- I can't even believe I… I was just so angry that I wasn't thinking straight and-"

"Katara, I promise, it's alright." As he said this, Zuko looked sincere, but weary. "You were forced to date my because of your brother, and in some roundabout way, my Uncle. I'd be angry too. Hell, I was angry because I was also forced into the situation. The way things happened was… unfortunate, but nothing we can change. It's okay."

At that moment, the little bell on the tea shop's door tinkled. The duo's heads shot up instantly.

"We're closed," Zuko all but growled when he saw who stood there.

There was no mistaking the self-satisfied smile on the guy's face; he was the douchebag that made Katara cry. "You're here; Katara's here. Where's your sense of hospitality? Besides, I'm not interested in your shitty tea." He turned his focus to the perturbed girl, "Kat, I want to talk to you, I've been trying to get a hold of you all weekend, but I guess you kept missing my calls. Really, it was lucky I ran into you here -fate maybe!"

"Right Jet," Katara's knuckles went white with strain around her tea cup, "Fate. And it was just a coincidence that I never happened to be around my cell for any of your fifty-some phone calls." She rolled her eyes. "Get a life and leave mine alone."

"Baby," Jet condescendingly crooned, "You don't know what you're talking about! I thought we really reconnected on Friday! Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"How about I reconnect my fist with your face?" Zuko demanded, positioning himself between the two. He pointed at the door. "We're _closed_."

Jet reared his shoulders back and stood eye to eye with Zuko. "You want to dance, Scarface? Step. Off. This is none of your goddamn business."

Suddenly, something clicked in Zuko's mind, and there was no way he was going to let himself be intimidated by the punk. "This is _my_ shop, my territory." He folded his arms and smirked –attempting to do his best impression of his little sister-, "I wonder how it would go over on your record if you were accused of breaking and entering? I hear they aren't too lenient on repeat offenders."

It had the desired effect; Jet immediately backed off. But he wasn't through. "Right, this is rich. Well," he glanced at Katara, "last chance Babe, leave with me or stay with the Cyclops."

"As if there was any question," Katara spat as she moved beside Zuko. "Jesus Jet, just take a hint. No one wants you here. So get your smarmy little cheating man-whore of a self out of here! Now!"

"Huh," Jet smiled, "I guess I've worn out my welcome." Be bowed his head in recognize defeat. "Enjoy the rest of your afternoon, because I can't promise Monday will be very pleasant for either of you." With that, he left the shop, whistling a happy tune.

They sat in silence, just staring at Jet as he walked out of view.

Katara turned to Zuko. "What do you think he meant by that?"

Zuko continued to glare at the door. "Hell if I know. He's dumb as a rock though, so I wouldn't be too worried. I can't believe he came back here."

Katara looked up curiously at Zuko. "Did… did you know Jet or something?"

"Hm?" He glanced down at Katara. "Not really. But let's just say he's fucking lucky I was too distracted Friday night to recognize him." He sat down at the adjacent chair; his face was dark and pensive. But then he switched gears and chuckled. "How'd you get tangled up with Mr. Perfect?"

Katara hung her head in shame. "I met him freshman year. I was… he…" She sighed dramatically and gave Zuko a beseeching look, "This doesn't live this conversation, alright?"

Zuko nodded.

"He was my first boyfriend. I was head over ass, batshit crazy about him," she groaned into her hands. "I was mostly just in awe that he noticed me in the first place. Sokka hated him of course, and was always bad-talking him to dad, so I had to keep everything tight under wraps- I don't know how, but it didn't even get around school about us, at least no more than idle speculation."

"Impressive," Zuko commented genuinely.

Katara cracked a small smile. "Yeah, well- I didn't have much of anyone to talk to about it, so that helped. My only real friends were Sokka and Aang." At this, she gave Zuko a pointed look. "And I'm sure you know all about Aang."

Zuko coughed and looked away.

"Anyway," Katara had a real smile on her face this time. "Without getting into specifics, let's just say that Jet did_ something_ to me, which forced me to give him the proper motivation to avoid me like a plague rat for two and a half glorious years." She cracked her knuckles. "And if I'm forced to remind him why he should keep his distance, so be it."

Zuko grinned. "Remind me to stay on your good side."

Katara quirked an eyebrow, "Don't worry Zuko, I think the worst has passed. I've already decided to retract my claws… But so, I've spilled my history with Jet-" –"Sort of," Zuko interjected to deaf ears.- "Now it's your turn."

Zuko leaned back in his chair and thoughtfully stared at the ceiling. "I guess it wasn't long after I moved here with Uncle. February, I think. Anyway, I was... I tended to stay out late a lot back then. One night when I got home, it was probably nearly midnight, I walked in to find my Uncle with some kid in a choke hold. He just looked at me when I walked in and, calm as anything, said 'Oh, there you are Zuko, perfect timing! Would you be so good as to phone the police?' Anyway, the kid turned out to be Jet, who broke into the wrong elderly man's apartment. He got thrown in juvie, and if I had to guess, I think he's still working off his community service sentence."

Katara was torn between gasping in shock or laughing until she peed. "Your Uncle-?"

"Yeah," Zuko grinned wistfully. "He pretty much handed Jet's ass to him. If there's one thing you never want to do, it's to get on Uncle Iroh's bad side."

"That's fantastic! I always knew I liked him for a reason! -But, how did he... I mean," she struggled for the right words. "I mean, sure, he's not exactly Sokka when it comes to fighting ability, but Jet-"

"Uncle was a military man," Zuko interrupted. "He was actually a General back in the day. He was dead scary back then, from what I've been told, and he still can be when the circumstances are right." He grew thoughtful, and after a moment, continued, "…He retired when Lu Ten came up MIA. It changed him a lot, especially since everyone assumed my cousin was dead. I mean, when they found him and he came back, it was like a miracle- but it had been two years and he was barely human anymore. Then his health just kept getting worse and worse. He fell into the comma about a year ago… and he was stable for most of it, but the other night… I guess Uncle got an urgent call from the hospital. I mean, you were there- Lu Ten, his vitals just took this major dive and… anyway, I have a feeling it will be like losing him all over again to Uncle." Zuko was staring intently at the tabletop when he finished, nearly flinched away when Katara's hand found his.

He studied their hands for a moment before looking up at the girl herself.

She smiled at him warmly and gave his hand a squeeze. "Your Uncle's lucky to have you."

Zuko shook his head and pulled his hand away to run it through his hair, "No, I think you've got that backwards."

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**Another Note from the Author: **  
Okay, so... I really hope this chapter was worth the wait. Please keep in mind that, while I am a competent, well-studied girl, even I am prone to slight imperfections. If you notice any errors, see points that could be improved, or think you could have fished a better chapter out of your toilet, please let me know and I will do my best to fix the situation. I am constantly going back and reworking previous chapters, and this one will be no exception. I do truly value well-thought constructive criticism. (Consider this my pathetic groveling for reviews.)

On that note... the description of Zuko's apartment: too much? I mean, it was meant to be significant enough for Katara to notice, but was it too detailed? Because, you may have noticed that I'm pretty simplistic when it comes to my settings (trying to improve on this...). Also, I feel like my perspective is all wonky... but that is too much of a daunting project at this point to go back and regulate, so we'll all just have to deal (yes, I know I'm only five chapters in, but it's over 20,000 words, cut me a break!).

The next chapter is going to be a little ridiculous. The content will be somewhat grave(ish), but if you consider what actually takes place in an objective view, it's pretty damn hilarious. I think anyway. You will have to judge for yourself, however... whenever it gets finished.

Thanks for your patience! I hope I didn't drive too many of you away in my absence!

Peace,

-Doily-


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